


Hidden

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shapeshifting, Surreal, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Dandolo doesn't want anyone to see him when he's injured. Melvin doesn't want him to suffer alone.





	Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> =* to Salmaka for inspiration and encouragement!

It happens suddenly: Dandolo is back in the city, it is always noticeable. Melvin catches only a glimpse of him — and it winds up his worry, because there is blood and something foul and charred, and…

But then he can’t find the Prince.

Noctians don’t appear to be concerned — so maybe it’s just Melvin. Maybe Dandolo doesn’t want to see him.

But there was that. The foul and charred, and the blood.

He tries to track Dandolo by scent — but his scent is everywhere.

He saw, clearly, that Dandolo was injured.

Melvin just wants to find him to see that he’s okay or at least is in the way to being okay. Even if Dandolo doesn’t want to see him.

Melvin goes to Frances because the Chief usually knows what Dandolo is up to.

And Fran shrugs. “He’s hurting. So he hides. He always does that.” Their tone is neutral, but Melvin can tell they are upset. It seems they are just… used to it, like something that can’t be changed.

“But where is he?”

“Who knows? Somewhere in the Palace. Every time we find one of his… ‘healing chambers’, he moves to another.”

Melvin’s worry only grows. He imagines Dandolo suffering alone...

He tries to change his tactic and track Dandolo by the injury. He was staked, Melvin thinks, and… burnt? So Melvin tried to find the scent of wood — not the treated wood used in sandsails or the aromatic wood of the Palace furniture and screens, but something cheap and burnt.

He seriously fears he’d get lost forever. (How is the Palace even built?!) But he keeps following it.

Until suddenly he steps (almost falls) into a vast cave. It’s not even a chamber, it’s literally a cave, huge. There is a cold underground stream, and he has to strain his vision to see anything. Some crystals glow.

It would be beautiful — but he’s more focused on the dark mass further in the cave, where the stream falls into a pool.

There is an indescribable scent in the air — not bad but absolutely indescribable. Bypassing the brain, hitting right to the bone. So thick, absolute.

_“Master Melvin, I’m afraid I’m not presentable.”_

It’s Dandolo’s voice — but also not entirely, and it’s in Melvin’s head, but also around him.

He makes a few steps, trying not to trip on rocks. “I was worried about you, Dandolo.”

_“There is nothing to worry about.”_

The dark mass shifts, as though trying to move away from Melvin.

His heart sinks. “I... will leave, if you don’t want me to be here. I’m sorry.”

The scent doesn’t become thicker as he moves closer to Dandolo. It’s simply... universal, filling everything. And he still can’t find words for it.

_“You wouldn’t want to see me... in such a shape.”_

“I’ve seen a lot in my life, Prince Dandolo.”

_“Not Prince. Not like this.”_

He steps onto something soft and jumps away in horror — but then recognizes clothes: Dandolo’s tunic and undershirt and pants. The rings that keep the sleeves from sliding. A sandal.

The question of whereabouts of the other sandal consumes Melvin for a few moments. He gathers the items and puts them in a single pile (there is a bloodied, charred hole in the tunic).

And then he sees, vaguely... Something. The shape. He can’t make head or tail of it at first, but as long as he looks, the contours become clearer. The figure is... very tall, at least three times as tall as Melvin, lying on the side by the pool. There is a tail, long and sinuous, and... claws. Paws. And arms. _Two_ sets of arms. And a pair of wings — bone and muscle and skin, like of a de-feathered bird. And then... Another pair underneath, but only skeletal, without skin or muscle?

His gaze moves to the head. It is... He can’t find words for how it’s shaped. Something human, but trying to become something different. Twisted in pain. With too many eyes.

There are eyes _not_ only on the head.

_“Don’t look. Please.”_

He drops his gaze. “I’m sorry.” His cheeks burn. He wants to help but doesn’t know how.

_“You can see why I need solitude. I am... unpleasant.”_

...What?

Dandolo shifts, one of the larger wings dipping into the pool. Perhaps water feels good. Is he running a fever? Wait, he was burned!

“Do you mean that you worry I might be repulsed?”

_“Aren’t you?”_

“No. I’m not,” he says gently. He moves even closer — slowly. Dandolo shifts away, tense.

Melvin hopes he isn’t making matters worse. He kneels (the rocky floor is so hard and so cold) and strokes one of the hands. The claws dig into the rock as though it’s a piece of dough, not stone.

The skin is, indeed, hot, almost scorching, and very dry and somehow... bumpy? Like covered in scales or those bumps that... Oh. The feathers. Feather capsules or whatever they are called.

An eye on the shoulder blinks at him, huge and dark.

“Does my touch hurt?”

_“No.”_

“What can I do to help you?”

_“You want to stay?”_

What a strange question! “Yes, of course. If you don’t mind. You are in pain.”

Dandolo shudders. _“I want to drink. But I can’t.”_

He glances at the maw (all those variously-shaped teeth don’t allow it to close). He strokes the hand again. It’s easily like four of his in size, and there are more than three knuckles on each finger. “Will you drown if I lower you into the pool?”

_“No. Don’t need to breathe.”_

He looks at the pool. It’s difficult to tell in the darkness but it might deep enough to submerge Dandolo fully.

(Dandolo is so weak he can’t even push himself into the water, by the Shadow...)

Melvin lowers the tail into it fully first. Dandolo is very, very heavy, and it’s a slow process, and Melvin has to stop several times to rest. Even his vampiric strength is barely enough — but it’s also that the dimensions of Dandolo are somehow wrong. Leading senses astray.

He lowers the big head into it the last, as gently as he can, even as the icy cold water bites his hands.

All the eyes close.

Melvin takes off his jacket, folds it and puts it on the floor then sits down on it, pulling his legs to his chest.

_“You don’t have to stay.”_

“I want to.”

The water ripples. The stream sings it’s song.

_“Thank you.”_

It feels as though the whole cave eases, the thick tension fading a little.

He isn’t sure how long he sits here, time seems to be warped. He falls asleep at some point, and he half-wakes to lying on something soft, like a mattress, and covered... cocooned by... feathers? Silk? Fur? He isn’t certain either, but he’s warm, and safe, and he presses himself closer to the core of the warmth. He is surrounded by some pleasant aroma, warm sweet spices and tea and...

He nuzzles whatever he’s sleeping on, and the chamber (cave? the Palace? the city?) chuckles.

The next time, Melvin wakes fully — and definitely on a mattress, surrounded by a dozen pillows. The room looks like many other rooms in the palace, though strangely... huge. There is a skylight (what is an open skylight called? he can’t remember), though Melvin is sure that the... cave (was there a cave?) was deep underground.

Dandolo is walking around, barefoot, though wearing short pants, and only in the undyed undershirt, turning the ruined tunic in his hand. And eating an apple. Then another. Then an orange, right with the skin. Then what to Melvin looks like half a pineapple.

“Good morning, Master Melvin.” Dandolo’s voice sounds normal. His shadow has three pairs of wings. It doesn’t follow him, staying as though pinned in place. Though it, too, reaches for the giant bowl full of fruits.

It is so _fascinating_...

Melvin suddenly realizes that he lacks a shirt. He pulls a blanket closer. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Dandolo finishes another orange, licks his thumb and claw. Then looks at Melvin. Green eyes like precious gems. “Much better. Thanks to you. Good as new in just three days.”

Three... “We’ve spent there three days?”

“Yes.”

Together. Sleeping. Dandolo taking care of him, even though it was supposed to be the other way around... Some helper you are, Melvin Mancer.

“Though not ‘there’, Master Melvin. Here.” Dandolo makes that handsome sweeping gesture.

But this sun-filled room is so far from the cold cave...

Melvin notices the glint of mischief in Dandolo’s eyes. Only the Prince knows the whole of the Palace — is that what Noctians usually say?

Melvin looks around and finds his shirt on the ottoman nearby. He wraps the blanket around himself and slides onto the floor, onto the soft carpets that tickle his feet. He doesn’t want Dandolo to be repulsed by all his scars. “Dandolo? Could you... If you get injured like that, may I... May I come and help?” He lets the blanket drop and busies himself with throwing the shirt quickly on his shoulders.

“Sometimes it’s much worse,” Dandolo says quietly from behind him. “Nobody should see it.”

Melvin’s hands linger on the buttons. “I want to see. To be there for you and help you.”

“I always heal, eventually. I’m almost impossible to kill, don’t worry.”

“But you suffer.” (That tense figure, in silent pain...)

“I heal. It always passes.”

He turns around, almost angry. “It’s not a question of it passing! It’s you bearing it alone! You were thirsty and you couldn’t even drink!”

Dandolo looks away. “I always bear it alone. It’s better this way, trust me.”

Always... Shadow, and he’s about a thousand years old!

“How is it better? I thought you weren’t like others, that you don’t do things just because you always did them this way!”

The shadow grows, suddenly, huge, blocking out the light. “I know what I’m doing! You don’t want to see me like that. Niesha once saw — and she still gets nightmares! Contrary to my appearance most of the time, I am _not_ **_human_**!”

Melvin’s insides are twisting in fear, and his mind simply erases what he’s seeing right in front of him — but he summons all of his stubbornness, and clenches his fists. “I won’t let you suffer in solitude.”

The sight in front of him shrinks immediately and he sees Dandolo again. Tired. Dandolo looks down. “...Forgive me for my outbreak.”

“You are still healing. It’s all right.”

Dandolo picks another orange, eyes it critically, then grows out a claw, inserts it into the orange, and pulls, and it splits into perfect halves. He holds out one half, the long claw dripping with sweet juice.

Melvin accepts it as the offering of peace. His own fingers are stained in the juice, and he licks them absently. (He is sure he’s imagined the glance that Dandolo throws at his lips.)

He pries one segment and bites into it. It’s sweet and tangy. Then says, after swallowing it: “Allow me, then, to find you and tell me whether I can be with you. If you don’t want me... I mean, to stay with you. Say so, and I will leave with no questions.” Worried to distraction, but he would respect Dandolo’s wishes.

Dandolo licks his claw off the juice. (His tongue so—) “Hm. Yes, Master Melvin. I think it’s fair. But when I’m injured very seriously, only you will be able to find me, nobody else. And if I decide you can’t see me, you will walk away and won’t find me until I am healed enough.”

He nods. It’s better than nothing.

And they have avoided another fight.


End file.
